Since moving to South Florida, I’ve noticed a new relationship… “trend” of sorts. I’m not sure what the driving force is behind it, but it’s common and it’s only becoming more so: there are a lot of women romantically involved with gay men around here.

To be clear, I’m not referring to openly gay men. I’m referring to the men that are 100% committed to the closet, getting Married, having babies, and still as gay as if Johnny Weir married Liberace and they had a gay lovechild that grew up and married Freddie Mercury, after which they moved to Connecticut and opened an underwear designer shop and overplucked their eyebrows all day. What? I’ve watched RuPaul’s Drag Race! I know things!

Anyway, since moving to Florida and attending countless events, I have watched silently and awkwardly as the woman I was speaking with would prattle on endlessly about what an amazing boyfriend or husband she had, while myself and everyone for seven miles could see he flamed enough to set the room’s drapes ablaze. My gaydar isn’t particularly tuned so if I’m sensing it, it’s usually WAAAAYYY after everyone else has arrived at the party and I’m straggling in to the realization two hours late. I would always wonder to myself, could these bright women not see it? The short answer? They do.

I must admit when I first began emailing with Pat, I wasn’t entirely sure. He was 40 years old, never married, originally from New Jersey, and had just purchased a house in Florida. After reading my profile and seeing that I was more of an outdoor gal, he offered to take me horseback riding or go on a hike. He looked handsome in his photos – if a bit thin – and seemed sincere. So I sent him my phone number and agreed to meet up. About two days later I got a voice message from Pat and girrrrrl, was it sparkly.

I won’t sit here and pretend I never judge books by their cover. Why shouldn’t I judge it by the cover?! For pete’s sake, it’s the cover! It’s a pretty darned good indication of what’s inside the pages! And if your cover is a screaming advertisement for Falsettos, chances are pretty high that I’m going to take it at face value. But anyway.

Yes, Pat’s voice, pitch, and manner of speaking was incredibly feminine. I’ve met men before that have had so-called “gay voice” who weren’t actually gay, as well as gay men that gave off no vocal cues. There are a lot of environmental factors that can determine the accents we develop, so I knew not to jump to any conclusions just yet. It is merely step one of about 20. Since I had already agreed to a date with Pat and he truly seemed like a nice guy, I decided to keep our plans to meet at a popular park near his house for a hike.

I tried not to react when he rolled up in a powder blue Prius. I tried not to react to his jean cut-off shorts that were just a leeeeeeeeeetle too short. I tried not to react to the obvious tanning membership, deep V-neck striped shirt, and perfectly shaved chest. And I tried to react positively when he said our next date would be amazing if we could look at Kitchen stuff together and see what floors, paint colors, furniture, cabinets, and curtains would look best in his new house. I mean, I LOVE this stuff so this was sounding like a dream date! And I wasn’t even expected to put out?! Win freaking win!

So we hung out. We spent time picking out decor for his new house and making catty gossip about people we knew. Pat talked about growing up in Jersey and how he was down to earth now thanks to constantly being teased for acting too girly when he was a kid (he’s…still extremely girly). He spoke of a suspiciously high number of gay friends back home, and thought Beyonce was queen of the world. I admit that Pat was a lot of fun and I could understand why some women would go along with a relationship with a gay guy if the only other options out there were anything like the other men I’ve dated here. But there came a moment when I realized, despite my aversion to singlehood, that no amount of faking it with a gay guy was ever going to be enough for me.

Pat and I stopped at his house one evening to drop something off before heading out to dinner. It was then that I spotted something in Pat’s kitchen that stopped me dead in my tracks. As he went off to use the restroom for a moment there it was: his laptop sitting on the kitchen counter wide open for everyone to see and so obvious that I would have to have been blind to miss it. He had left his dating profile, search results and all, wide open on the laptop screen. Glancing closer, I realized he had been emailing back and forth with a man on the dating site that I, too, had found attractive. I suddenly realized that my gay boyfriend and I were now competing for the same men. On the exact same dating site.

I heard Pat flushing the toilet and stepped out of the kitchen so that it wouldn’t be obvious that I’d seen it. When he tried to kiss me for the first time later that night, I dodged it and gave him a hug instead.

Driving home that night, I decided that it was absolutely impossible to date someone who was gay without being aware of it. Maybe some people are comfortable with it, turning a blind eye to things in order to keep up appearances. Maybe some people are lonely enough that they prefer the company of a gay spouse over no company at all. And just maybe, some of them are truly in love and happy with their arrangement because they simply care too much to let the person go. I admire anyone who can embrace that kind of relationship, knowing full well and loving the person anyway. But spending my life pretending that there isn’t a big, gay, pink elephant in the room simply isn’t in my plan.